You Are Not Alone
by penbehindamask
Summary: Erik has always been shunned and rejected. When he hears angelic singing he is entranced. Can he and the lonely girl find companionship in each other, or will their interaction destroy any hope left? A/U inspired by ALW and partly Leroux.
1. Chapter 1 - The Angel of Music

**1- The Angel of Music**

**A/N This is my first fanfic, so don't expect to much. Any reviews are welcome.**

* * *

The soft swishing of his cape was the only sound Erik allowed as he walked down the narrow side corridor only he could use. He liked to hear that sound because it put him in mind of swirling winds, and freedom in a world that was entirely his.

No footsteps resounded on the floor. No harsh breaths escaped his mouth. No part of him brushed against the walls in a grating 'shhhh' of noise. Even his porcelain mask didn't rub against his face.

Just then the flickering silence was broken by footsteps and hushed voices. Erik hurried his pace, not wanting to have to listen to idle chatter. Then the singing started.

The pure, sweet voice filled the small corridor like music straight from heaven. Erik froze where he was, captivated. He moved to the side of the adjoining passage he was in and pressed his hands to the wall. He wanted so much to be closer to that beautiful sound. It seemed to be all around him, inside him. It filled the hollow places in his being and soothed the scars of a lifetime. The music was everything.

Then the song died away, and was replaced by a soft laugh and excited voices.  
Erik fixed his eyes through the gaps in the wall on the two girls walking through the corridor. The taller one had brown hair and grey eyes, but Erik hardly noticed her. His gaze was full of the girl who had been singing. She was small and delicate, and carried herself as though she was about to sprout wings and take to the air. Like molten shadows her hair tumbled down her back, curling into the folds of her deep green cloak. Her porcelain-doll face was captured in a smile of the same elation Erik always felt with music. Her eyes were as brightly blue as sapphires; they seemed to shine like a pair of beautiful beacons, beckoning Erik forwards.

The girls continued down the corridor, walking inches away from where Erik was standing, and he followed as though in trance.

Erik's mind was spinning. He could still hear that gorgeous voice in his head. Nothing else seemed to matter. All he wanted was to hear that sound again, to be part of it, to be closer to it, to be closer to her...

* * *

Christine tugged on Celeste's elbow, pulling her friend along. "Come on," she urged. "Rehearsal ended late today and I want to get home before it gets dark."  
Celeste sighed but quickened her pace. "Sorry, coming."

Christine noticed the sad edge to her voice, stopped and turned. "Are you okay doing this? I know today hasn't been the best,"

Celeste's blue eyes raised to meet Christine's grey ones. "Yes, I...I need to do this. I can't just not visit my father because I've had a bad day." Christine sighed. Celeste always had a rather disconcertingly honest way of speaking so no one could ever tell if she was being truthful or not.

"Anyway," Celeste continued, "It was only Carlotta. She can only say so much."  
Christine nodded. "Alright. Come on then."

The two girls passed through the writhing iron gates and into the graveyard, not noticing the shadow that followed them.

* * *

Celeste walked a short way away as Christine reached her father's grave. She knew it was better to reminisce alone.

Arriving at the gravestone that was her own destination, Celeste knelt; her eyes blurring with tears as her fingers traced the etched lines of the name _Aimon Bistelle_. Warm tears spilled from her eyes and burned her cheeks. In a choked voice she managed to utter the words she wished her father could hear, "I need you, Papa. I need your hug and your smile and your comforting words. But I can't reach you. I wish so much I had you back. I love Mother, of course, but I feel so lonely. Without you...and mostly without Mother too...I don't know how to cope. I'm alone.

Please, Papa. After today I feel like I can't stand much more. Carlotta was throwing her poisonous insults around again, and it was horrible. Christine tells me not to let it get to me, but it still hurts.

I know it's not your fault, but why did you have to leave me? Please, I don't want to be on my own anymore."

Celeste bowed her head, tears falling to the grass. When she heard Christine's footsteps she raised her head again, hurriedly brushing the tears from her cheeks.

Without a word, Christine crouched beside Celeste and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know what you need, Celeste." She said eyes met grey. "An angel."

Celeste smiled, to her own surprise. "I think we could all do with one of those."

"You need an Angel of Music, like Little Lotte in the stories our parents told." Christine continued, mirroring Celeste's smile. "That would make you feel better."

A shake of the head was the reply Celeste gave. Christine was undeterred. "An angel to teach you, to sing in your sleep, to have music constantly playing in your head."

"That sounds lovely, but I want an angel far less than you deserve one."

Christine looked back in the direction of her father's grave. Celeste's hand still rested on the stone portal to her own father. "Celeste, both of our fathers said they'd send us an angel from heaven. Believe them. And, if you can hear me Father," she raised her voice slightly with another glance over her shoulder. "Send the angel to Celeste. She needs it."

With a sigh and small smile, Celeste rose and linked her arm through Christine's. "Come on, let's go home."

"Okay. But I'm walking you home tonight."

"Christine..."

Christine raised a hand to stop her protest. "Your head's been in the clouds all day; you'd probably walk halfway across Paris before you noticed you'd taken a wrong turning."

Celeste laughed. "Alright then."

"And anyway," Christine said, beginning to lead them both out of the graveyard, "The Angel of Music might come and snatch you up if you were on your own, and then you'd leave me completely."

Celeste smiled and glanced back over her shoulder. "You did promise, Papa."she bid softly, her quiet words drifting back to settle on the dark tombstone.

* * *

Erik raised his head to watch the pair disappear into the darkness. His head was whirring with unfolding plans and those last fleeting words.

This was his way to her. She wanted an angel? He would give her an angel. Music had always been his most beloved strength, and it had been music that had first drawn him to the girl. It would be their connection.

Surely, even a demon like him could be an angel for something as heavenly as her.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Chorus Girl

**2- A Chorus Girl**

**A/N I'm not so happy with this one, but I am looking forwards to what's coming up...**

* * *

"Mademoiselle Bistelle!"

Celeste turned to see Monsieur Lefevre pushing his way through the gaggles of people on the Opera House stage.

Celeste replaced the confused frown on her face with a polite smile as he neared. "Monsieur?"

"Mademoiselle Bistelle. Mademoiselle Daae." he added, with a quick incline of his head to Christine before turning back to Celeste. "You have been, ah, recommended for our lead chorus singer and dancer for our upcoming production. Do you accept this post?"

Celeste's slight frown returned. "But what about Darcella? I thought she still held the position."

Lefevre waved a hand dismissively. "She has transferred to another Opera House."

"But then what about Arien? She was second, surely she should-"

"Also gone! Now, do you accept the post or not?" Lefevre's voice had gone quite frantic and his eyes had started to bulge slightly.

"Um, yes, I suppose..."

"Good." The manager's tone had returned to its usual briskness. Both girls still surveyed him faintly alarmedly. "A new dressing room has recently been built which you will receive."

"Oh, thank you, Monsieur." Lefevre nodded and turned away from her, visibly relaxing as he moved on to Christine. "Mademoiselle Daae, we would like you to be second dancer."

Christine smiled, still looking uncertain. "I would be honoured, Monsieur."

Lefevre nodded again. "You will, of course, receive Darcella's old dressing room. And, oh yes, you will both need your new scores. Monsieur Reyer!"

At his summons, Monsieur Reyer scurried in their direction, rifling through the stack of music in his arms. "Yes, yes, here you are, Mam'zelles. Your music."

The girls took their scores for his hands. Celeste immediately began to read hers, only looking up when Lefevre said, "Well, good day to you both," and walked away quickly.

Reyer put a hand on Celeste's arm. "You will do well, the both of you. Now, Signor Piangi!" He hurried off again.

Christine and Celeste turned to each other. Christine raised an eyebrow. "Well," she said, "That was...unexpected."

"Mmm," agreed Celeste vaguely, resuming pouring over her music.

"Christine! Celeste!" A whirl of tutu and blonde hair, and Meg stood beside them. "I just heard; congratulations!"

Celeste smiled, eyes not leaving the score. "Thank you. Though why it was even necessary bemuses me. For Darcella and Arien both to leave... And, anyway, why didn't you get the position Meg?"

Meg shrugged. "I've never been as musical as you two. Or committed. Don't get me wrong, I love this place, but working with my mother all the time...honestly, it's enough to take the spring out of anyone's _brisé_. Anyway, got to go practice with the little ballerinas. Remember us?"

Christine smiled. "We've just got slightly bigger chorus parts than before, Meg. We're hardly leading. And we're still dancing."

"Plus, we'd be hard put to forget you, Meg; you spring around as much as ever." Celeste added, still not looking up.

Meg laughed, already being swallowed by the crowd. "Don't forget us poor toe tappers!" She shouted back over her shoulder.

Christine sighed. "God, conversations with her are tiring. I can barely keep up."

"Mmm." Celeste murmured.

Christine looked over at her. "Well done, by the way."

Celeste threw a smile in her direction. "Thank you. You too."

"I wonder where the recommendations came from." Christine mused.

"Well, I would say that Lefevre picked you himself. He's always wanted to see what the daughter of the great Daae could do. But I have no idea about me."

"Anyone whose ever heard you, Celeste. Honestly, you're going to surpass anything that's come before. People would kill for your voice."

Celeste finally looked up, smiling modestly. "Thanks. But I'm still waiting for my Angel of Music to come along."

* * *

Erik smiled, feeling as though the title 'Angel of Music' was already wrapping around him.

His eyes moved from the pair of girls, over the heads of the giggling ballerinas and the pouting Prima Donna, to where Monsieur Lefevre was climbing the stairs. As Erik watched, Lefefvre glanced back over his shoulder, then patted his pocket, before disappearing off to his office.

A chuckle rose to Erik's lips. He knew full well that, concealed in that pocket, Lefevre carried the most recent letter signed by the Opera Ghost. Scrawled in red was that 'recommendation' for Celeste that should have been unnecessary had the manager not been as blind as a mole rat.

But no matter; Erik had heard whispers of Lefevre's resignation. It was supposedly under stress, and many had placed blame on the Opera Ghost's intangible shoulders. Well, good. It was about time for some fresh blood, and Erik was glad that all his efforts were finally shaking off some rotten fruit. And the thought of someone new to play with was thoroughly enjoyable.

Speaking of enjoyment, his actions were now moving Celeste into the perfect position for Erik to make his move. The thought of finally reaching her (albeit through the mirror-window he had designed) sent a light shiver of anticipation down his back. Her wishes granted along with his... Almost the work of angels.


End file.
